Running Away
by klcarr892
Summary: I decided to write myself a season 4 finale. Spoilers - you have been warned.


***SPOILERS!***

Summary: I pretty much took every finale spoiler out there right now and wrapped it in a nice little package for y'all. I have no idea how it'll all turn out but I gave a whack at it anyway.

Disclaimer: If I owned TM, I would be playing the part of Lorelai. 'Nough said.

_A/N So this is what happens when I listen to music too long at work. I played around with the chronology of this. Hope it all makes sense xD_

* * *

___Don't lie and say that it's OK._

_It's alright if there's nothing more to say._

_So I'm running away._

_I'm leaving this place._

_Yeah, I'm running away._

_I'm running away._

*****6******

Cold and Fake.

If anyone asked Jane how he was feeling at the moment, those two words would be his response, if he talked at all.

His suit was still damp even after five hours of driving. Had his mind had been working properly, Jane may have thought to turn on the heat in his car but it never crossed his mind. Now, he was sitting in the dark, hunched over in the farthest unoccupied booth in the place. The air conditioning hit him at full blast. Surly, it was meant to keep the patrons awake, dispensing their money thoughtlessly in one machine or another but for Jane, the cold just brought on uncontrollable shivering.

He stared blankly at the flashy lights, drawing the excited crowd in like the glint of a fishing lure. It was kind of like the carnival lights of Jane's youth. The illuminating colors could be seen from miles out. Here, there was no air, no vast openness beyond the lights. He supposed that was the point. Confine the guests, whom you might as well just admit and call them marks, inside this illusion of wealth and opportunity.

At least he could disappear in here, get lost in the fake and the flash. He fit right in with it all. Besides, it wasn't as if anyone would ever come looking for him.

* * *

*****1*****

The clouds were beginning to roll in as Jane sat in front of his attic window, staring blankly into the mid-morning view. He was supposed to be working on their current case, figuring out who else would know about their victim's secret getaway spot where he also happened to be murdered. At first, Jane assumed a girlfriend or relative but now, he wasn't sure. The man appeared to have no current love interest and his family didn't even know about his hideaway in the middle of nowhere.

To be fair though, the consultant's mind wasn't really focused on the case anyway. Maybe a powernap would restart his thinking process.

Jane reclined on his makeshift bed when he heard, more than felt a small crinkle under his forehead. Lifting the pillow, Jane found a small folded piece of paper. As he read the note's contents, his hands began to tremble.

_Dear Mr. Jane_

_Happy Anniversary! I hope you remembered but I'm sure you did. How does it feel? Eight years in and you're still no closer to finding me than you were on day one. Usually, I'd have a toast to your yearly successes, or should I say lack thereof, on my own but you see, I'm a bit lonely this year. Oh, I would go visit Roseland but seeing as you're watching out for her, I wouldn't want to get anyone too excited. Instead, I figured we could celebrate together and by we, I mean the four of us. I know you'll come. How, do you ask? Because after eight years, you still have nothing to loose._

_RJ_

Jane read through the letter twice more, anger threatening to boil out of his pores. With hands still trembling, he quickly stood and strolled out of the attic, leaving the letter behind.

"I need to take the rest of the day off." Jane blurted as soon as he entered Lisbon's office.

Lisbon didn't say anything at first. She simply stared at the man, taking in his features, the obvious distress. Jane never asked for time off but Lisbon wasn't completely clueless. She sighed.

"You can have the rest of the day off."

Jane opened his mouth to protest, then closed it only after realizing she had agreed to his request. He nodded once and moved towards her door.

"Jane?" Lisbon said, quieter before he reached for the knob.

Jane turned back around, and held his breath for the argument that was sure to come.

"If this… If this is about today…well, I just want you to know that I'm here to talk or whatever."

He swallowed, looked at the floor.

"I know you're hurting and as your friend, I worry about you. Just, don't shut me out okay?"

Jane managed another nod before exiting the office, the door swinging shut behind him.

* * *

*****5*****

His water-logged leather shoes squeaked against the pristine tile floors as he briskly walked toward the designated room. It had taken Jane a while to pry himself up from the muddy soil and make his way over but determination and desperation got him here eventually. That, and he had to do a bit of sneaking around as to not be spotted by certain people. He was drenched from head to foot. Both his suit and shoes were ruined but that was the furthest thing from Jane's mind at the moment.

He was about to knock on the wooden door when it flew open. Before Jane could even react, he was shoved against the opposite wall, pinned by two hands on his shoulders.

"Why?" The usually emotionless Asian asked angrily.

Jane had no satisfactory answer to give the man.

"What? You suddenly silent now? I asked you a simple question Jane."

The blonde lowered his head, his curls still dripping from the torrential downpour outside. With his eyes turned downward, Jane never saw the fist coming. He wasn't sure what registered first in his brain, the fact that Cho had punched him or his head hitting and bouncing off the concrete wall.

At the sound of the commotion, the wooden door opened again and two new figures entered the picture. Rigsby stepped in front of the red-faced Cho, separating the man from his target. Jane was managing to stay upright, leaning heavily against the wall. Rigsby reached for Jane's arm not so gently.

"You can't be here Jane."

"But I need to…"

"No." Rigsby insisted. "You lost that right when…" but he couldn't finish his sentence.

"I'm sorry." Jane whispered.

The tall man was angry now himself. "Sorry doesn't cut it this time man. You can't make this right with a simple apology. Nothing will make this right. You need to leave now and stay the heck away."

Jane held Rigsby's stare for a few moments and then risked a peek at Van Pelt who wouldn't even glance in his direction. With a final sweep over this little group he'd come to know as his family, Jane took a step backwards and headed in the direction he had come.

The note Jane found stuck under the windshield wiper as he stumbled back to his car was soggy but legible.

_My bad. I guess you did have something to lose._

* * *

*****3*****

The first thing that was clearly out of place in the somber cemetery was the pink tricycle, fitted with shiny new red streamers. The second thing was the rose petals draped on every inch of the two stones and about a yard radius around them.

The sun was nearly set as Jane strolled the small path for only the third time in eight years. He knew this was probably a trap but for some reason, Jane didn't really care. Red John was right, nothing could keep him away no matter what the circumstance or consequence.

Jane was about to brush the unwelcome petals off his wife's headstone when he spotted the small wooden box on the grass nestled between the two plots along with what looked like a tape recorder sitting on top. Jane imagined that whatever audio was held on the recorder, it wouldn't be pleasant to listen to.

First thing first, Jane needed to clean up the desecration Red John had so conveniently left. It was dark by the time he had all the petals cleaned away and the tricycle hidden away in the trunk of his car. The rumble of thunder in the distance informed Jane that he didn't have much time left.

Hesitantly, he settled himself on the ground, his back against the cold stone, the box and tape recorder balanced on his lap. Holding his breath, Jane hit play.

The sound of static flooded Jane's ears through the silence of the now darkened cemetery.

"_Honey, are you certain you brushed your teeth? I didn't hear the water running from downstairs."_

Jane's grip on the recorder tightened to the point that he feared he would break it as the achingly familiar voice echoed through the speaker.

"_Yes mom, would you like to smell my breath? It's minty fresh." The child's voice insisted._

"_No, I trust you sweetie. What do you want me to make you for our lunch in the park tomorrow?"_

"_Can I have just jelly please?"_

"_I think I can manage that." _

"_I wish daddy could come with us tomorrow."_

_Angela audibly sighed. "I know you do sweetie but your father is very busy."_

"_He's always busy. Doesn't he want to be with us?" Charlotte asked, nearly in tears._

"_Oh honey, your dad loves you very much. You know he has that new job working with the police. He works really hard because he loves us and wants us to have whatever we want."_

"_But I don't want anything. I want daddy." Charlotte hiccupped._

The tape returned to static.

With his heart aching with a new intensity Jane didn't think possible, he rewound the tape and played it again. The first few drops of moisture to fall on the black tape recorder were not from the clouds but from the man who now knew that his beautiful little daughter was questioning his love for her on the night she was murdered.

The sky finally broke as Jane managed to put the recorder aside and open up the wooden box. Inside, he found something wrapped in a red checkered cloth. Jane understood the symbolism behind the cloth but didn't understand what Red John wanted in giving him back Max Winter's gun. He wasn't all that surprised that Red John could somehow get it from CBI lockup but what did it mean?

Jane didn't have time to ponder the question as footsteps approached behind him.

* * *

*****2*****

It took Lisbon a good thirty minutes to figure out exactly where the case file had disappeared to. Van Pelt had asked to take another look at the crime scene photos but she hadn't the slightest idea where the folder could be.

A half an hour later, Lisbon was in the attic, the file open on Jane's little wooden table. This should have been the first place Lisbon looked since her laptop had gone missing months earlier. Sliding the loose pieces of the file into some semblance of order, Lisbon picked up the pile and was about to leave when something on Jane's cot stopped her.

Lisbon knew she shouldn't interfere with Jane's personal life unless of course he decided to share. Then again, Jane didn't always think rationally when it came to getting himself in dangerous situations. Actually, he practically ran into those kinds of scenarios like water to a sponge. Going with her gut, Lisbon picked up the small piece of paper.

* * *

*****4*****

Jane heard the footsteps before he saw the shadow appear behind him. On instinct and adrenaline, Jane plucked the handgun from its wooden enclosure and griped it tightly. He whipped around and took the figure standing behind him to his left by surprise. Jane spotted the black-clad figure and the gun a second before his brain sent the message to his fingertips.

The gun fired, momentarily illuminating the darkness. What Jane saw in that moment made his blood turn cold. Metal clattered to the ground as Jane propelled himself forward.

Lightning flashed and Jane was able to reach his would be attacker in two giant strides. His mind slurred but he managed to catch the figure as it teetered and slumped foreword.

"No." Jane choked in a half-sob. The plea was drowned by the now torrential rain.

"Jane?" A weakening Lisbon asked, no pleaded.

"What are you doing here?" Was all he could manage. He cradled Lisbon with one arm and dug around in his jacket for his cell phone with the other.

"…ound the note." Lisbon coughed, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe. "Red John?"

Jane didn't answer as he managed to retrieve his cell. He dialed 911. "I need an ambulance at Northwood cemetery. An agent's been shot. Please, hurry." He ignored the pleas of the dispatch for him to stay on the line. He threw his phone to the ground and held onto Lisbon, pressing his hand into the bleeding wound in her side.

Jane's gaze was locked on Lisbon's frightened one.

"I'm so sorry Lisbon." He would do anything to switch places with here in this moment.

"M..my fault. I shouldn't have snuck upon you like that with my gun drawn."

Jane shook his head in disagreement.

"Jane." She managed to weakly place her hand on his arm. "Whatever happens, this wasn't your fault. I need you to…"

"No." Jane cut her off. "Don't talk like that. You'll be just fine. The paramedics are on their way."

Jane saw flashing lights in the distance. With a new sense of urgency, he scooped the petite woman off the ground and headed toward the main gate as fast as his legs would take him.

The ambulance was there a few moments before Jane as he made his way over to the vehicle. The paramedics climbed out of the front seats and met him halfway.

"Help her." He pleaded as one paramedic unloaded the stretcher for Jane to place Lisbon on. They went right to work, rolling the injured woman back into the ambulance and speeding off toward the hospital.

It was moments later when Jane spotted the police lights and he knew he had to get away from there. He ran, through the rain until he reached the small dark form of his car. There, he slumped beside it, away from the lights as the sobs finally overtook him.

* * *

*****7*****

Jane wished he could just stop breathing; close his mouth and hold the air in his lungs until he starved his brain of oxygen. He knew of course, that as soon as he lost consciousness, his body would resume normal lung function on instinct so his wish was futile. Instead, he was forced to sit here in this fake little room with the rest of these fake people knowing full well that the only true friend he'd had in eight years might very well be dead, just like his wife, just like his little girl.

His head pounded. Jane was sure the Asian's punch had left a mark and the back of his head didn't feel any better. It was like two separate drum beats, one in the front and the offbeat in the back.

A shadow crossed his slumped figure. He looked up to meet the gentle eyes of a woman, a stranger but those eyes were more real than anything he had seen in the last hour or so.

_Stay away from me._ His mind screamed. _I'm the plague. Anyone who comes within five feet of me ends up dead._

She didn't move away. Instead, she leaned over, placing two items on the table.

"I was coming to take your order when I realized what you need right now is anything but alcohol."

Jane looked down at the table. A frozen bag of peas and a steaming cup of tea.

_fin_


End file.
